Something hard

Hurray!  Today I ran more than I've run at any one time since I was in my twenties:  6.1 miles!  I'm happy to say that the running itself wasn't all that hard from a cardiovascular standpoint.  With the distances I'm currently running I'm experiencing a different issue.  While I'm here in NY I only have paved roads available to run on, as opposed to the much softer dirt roads I run on back home.  The pavement wreaks havoc with my knee and hip joints.   I was feeling some pain in my hips when I finished this morning and slowed to walk down my sister's long driveway.  My grimacing must have been visible from a distance because by the time I reached the house one of my sister's neighbors called to ask if the runner was okay.  Geesh!  I'm glad they're looking out for the neighborhood, but I'm now also feeling a twinge of embarrassment.


There are some things in life that are very hard.  I once knew a boy who was blessed with extraordinary wisdom.  The first time I saw him he was seven years old, completely bald, the color of a ripe pumpkin, head misshapen by the tumors, chemo, and multiple surgeries attempting to treat the disease process.  He was not able to walk on his thin spindly legs, so he was sitting in a little fire truck that he could roll up and down the hallways of the hospital under his own power.  He had appointed himself with the singularly important job of greeting everyone he saw with a bright smile and salutation to have a wonderful day.  I haven't seen that boy since 1999, but I remain inspired by something I heard him say to a reporter who interviewed him for a television story to raise money for his treatment.  She asked him, "How do you keep going and stay so cheerful with all that you must do to get well?" He responded, "I just get up every day and do something hard."


Every day I get up and think of the profundity of his answer.  Most of us face challenges far simpler than his.  Most of the time we are not in extraordinary physical pain.  It is fortunately rare that we are required to face our mortality on a imminent basis as that young man did.  Perhaps because of our good fortune we sometimes forget that most of the little trials that test us daily are inconsequential in the scheme of life.  Are any of us prepared to truly get up, everyday, and push ourselves to do something hard, as did my little buddy at Duke Medical Center in 1999?


I can't hold a candle to the flame that burned within him.  When the running is tough, I think of that boy, and I think of doing my version of something hard versus his.  If that little seven-year-old could do all that he could do, then I can do this.  And because I can do this, I can do other things that are even harder for me.  I don't know what happened to that little boy (HIPAA rules prevented me from learning his outcome), but I can say that he changed my life.  Every day, I just get up... and try to do something hard.  


Today I made it through 6.1 miles. This week I ran a total of 20.3 miles.  This marks the successful end of my promise to myself to run every single day for a full six week. My total mileage since I started this venture on June 12th is 101.3 miles with an expenditure of 11,394 kcal.  Honestly, it has been hard, but not nearly as hard as what some of the kids I've known have done.  I will keep running.
Até amanhã... 
7/24/11 - 6.1 miles | 78 mins | 4.7 mph | 640 kcal